


The Illustrado and the Boatman

by akositatot



Category: Noli Me Tangere & Related Works - José Rizal
Genre: M/M, elibarra - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4131334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akositatot/pseuds/akositatot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short narrative of Elias and Ibarra's blooming relationship after Ibarra gets shot by the the Guardia Civils. Happy 117th Independence Day! #RP612FIC</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Illustrado and the Boatman

“Don’t move.” Ibarra tells Elias as he wraps around a bandage on his injured arm. “Can you just lie down?” He instructed the Illustrado. Ibarra lies on Elias’ bed in his small and hidden abode, somewhere out of town near a creek. Between the bandaging and the cleaning up, all that was heard were cricket sounds and water, with a tinge of awkwardness.

“Take off your shirt.” Elias said.

Ibarra slowly and painfully took off his shirt, exposing blood-dripped skin and bruises. He winced in pain as Elias dabbed a wet cloth on his body, trying to focus on the task at hand.

“Fuck those guardia civils,” Elias whispers to himself.

“What?” Ibarra asked.

“Nothing.”

Dead silence.

They refused to make eye contact and they avoided verbal communication. Elias was sweating intensely while he was cleaning a half-nude Ibarra with the messy hair and the hoarse voice. Ibarra, on the other hand, was just like a rag doll, allowing Elias to do whatever he wanted in order for him to fix the broken man.

“Elias,” Ibarra moans in pain. The boatman was trying to take out a bullet on Ibarra’s left shoulder.

“Stop moaning.” Elias says sternly.

Ibarra moans in pain once more. “How can I when you’re trying to take out a bullet without any anaesthetics?”

Elias moves close to Ibarra’s neck. “Just, shh. It’s going to be fine.”

And they finally made eye contact.

Ibarra’s eyes were locked with Elias’. He was blushing, and he did not know why he was doing so, but for the first time in his life back in the Philippines, he felt safe. For an indecisive man, Ibarra was trying to figure himself out as if he were a jigsaw puzzle. He was always never sure of who he was and what he wanted to be. Was he supposed to be a leader? Was he supposed to avenge his father? Was he just back in the Philippines for research? With so many expectations from people, he barely knew who he was anymore. But when Elias looked at him with his fierce hazel eyes he felt like he was about to hit an epiphany. The moment was so vague that it needed him to look at Elias a little longer, with no sense of time and judgment. The more he stared at him, the closer he was to finding out what he was feeling.

Elias, on the other hand, was a quiet man who kept his feelings to himself. Acting all tough, he was trying to avoid eye contact with Ibarra, but it failed when he heard him wince in pain because of the bullet. He knew that he had this feeling that he and Ibarra will click someday, maybe in more ways than one would think. He surely knew who he was, though he was not actually very proud of it. He was afraid of being beaten and being ostracized when the town knows who he is; hence, his bravery. Elias’ bravery to do those daring acts and saving people was just a mask that he wore to appear as if he is the most masculine being society has ever seen; however, his progress went in retrograde, because when he looked in Ibarra’s eyes, he belonged to him.

Still close to Ibarra’s neck, Elias carefully uses his personalized tweezers to remove the bullet. The Illustrado winced in pain once more; however, he moaned in glory when it was finally out.

“Does it still hurt?” Elias whispered on his neck.

Ibarra looks at Elias’ lips. “No,” he whispered.

And for a moment there, everything stopped. Elias was dazed, Ibarra was injured. They were both alone in a room with nothing but cricket sounds and running water.

This time, they weren’t trying to avoid eye contact. This time, they weren’t stopping themselves from talking.

This time, they were slowly leaning in for a kiss, and sure enough, they locked.

Ibarra, with his messy hair and hoarse voice was literally paralysed when Elias’ lips were softly touching his. The boatman extended his hand and interlocked it with the Illustrado’s, and the other touching his hair.

Out of breath, they let go.

“Damn,” Elias said.

“I think,” Ibarra searched for the right words as he licked his lips. “I think…”

“You don’t owe me anything.” Elias said, kissing Ibarra’s cheek.


End file.
